Thunder and Lightening
Chapter 1
By
Lazlo Zalezac
Copyright (C) Lazlo Zalezac, 2004

The rage boiled up to the surface as Jerry leaned across his desk 
and hit the surface of it with his right fist. He yelled, "What do you 
mean we are out of anti-freeze? We're a car parts place and 
shouldn't ever be out of anti-freeze!"

Mike looked over at his boss, terrified at the sight presented to 
him. Jerry was a huge man, but there was no way that anyone 
could call him fat. Not a weight lifter or athlete, Jerry had been 
cursed with a large build that had filled in with muscle. His upper 
body looked more like that of a gorilla than that of a human. When 
he was angry, his face turned dark and the vein in his forehead 
throbbed. His gravelly voice, loud under normal circumstances, 
reached volumes during an angry outburst that hurt ears. Jerry 
being angry wasn't a rare occasion, he was angry more often than 
not.

Stammering, Mike answered, "I'm a salesclerk, not a stock 
manager."

"Excuses. I don't accept excuses!"

"This is bullshit. I quit!" Mike stormed out of the office, angry and 
afraid, wanting to put as much distance as he could between him 
and Jerry as quickly as possible. He knew that he would probably 
die if Jerry were to hit him. He didn't trust Jerry not to hit him, 
particularly when he was this angry.

Jerry sat down on his chair and snarled at the door. His rage felt 
that the coward wasn't worth the effort to chase him down. When 
the telephone rang, he picked it up and, irritated at the interruption, 
answered, "What?"

Mr. Sinclair, his boss, was taken aback by the less than friendly 
greeting. He said, "Jerry, this is Al. I hate to say this, but you didn't 
get the promotion."

Still furious at Mike, the bad news only served to fuel his rage. 
Jerry asked, "Why in the hell not?"

"You have too high of an employee turn-over rate."

"That's bullshit. There isn't another manager that's been here as 
long as I have," argued Jerry. This day was going from bad to 
worse. There was no way that he was going to be able to explain to 
that harpy of a wife that he didn't get the promotion. 

Al was quiet and then said, "They don't want to risk that same kind 
of turn over of our managers if you get promoted. Sorry, but that's 
the decision."

Blood boiling, Jerry slammed down the receiver and sat at his desk 
staring at the door. He felt like breaking it into a thousand little 
pieces and knew that he could do it. Once in high school, a kid had 
been picking on him by calling him the Hulk and he had retaliated 
by chasing the kid through the school. The kid had ducked into a 
classroom and locked the door terrified that he was going to get 
killed. The principal had stopped him after he had beaten down the 
door into the classroom by battering it with his bare fists. The 
memory left a sour taste in his mouth and reminded him that he 
needed to control his temper.

Sammy, the kid that worked in the store after school knocked on 
the door and slowly opened it. Looking around the door, he said, 
"Mr. Smith, Mike just left. I'm all alone here and there are 
customers waiting."

"God damn. What are you doing talking to me? Go out there and 
take care of them," shouted Jerry at the closed door as Sammy had 
already left. He sat there in his chair for a minute and then swore, 
"Damn kid. Doesn't know his ass from a hole in the ground. I 
better get out there and salvage the situation."

Jerry went through the customers quickly, taking their orders and 
filling them with ease. The line of customers dwindled and then 
disappeared as closing time approached and passed. Sammy didn't 
stick around after the store closed because a nasty summer storm 
was brewing on the horizon and he had to pedal home on his 
bicycle. 

Jerry closed up the store wondering who was going to work the 
counter tomorrow. Mike's quitting made him three people short 
and he hadn't had anyone come in the store looking for a job in 
four months. Swearing, he went through the store checking the 
inventory to determine if he needed to order anything. It took him 
an extra hour to write down the things that he needed to order 
immediately. He would have to call in the order in the morning, 
but at least he could do it first thing and they could ship it out that 
day.

It was thundering by the time that he left the store. Black clouds 
hung low to the ground, swirling in anger. Turbulent winds created 
a menacing atmosphere of impending doom. Jerry looked up at the 
sky, growling at it as though he dared it to rain on him. He 
muttered, "With my luck it'll probably hail."

After getting into his car, he sat in the seat trying to fight down the 
rage enough to make the trip home. He hated the drive through the 
bumper to bumper traffic of rush hour. Eight of the twelve miles 
home were on a highway that was too small for the traffic it carried 
and had been since the day it was built. He didn't want to live in 
the neighborhood where his house was located, but his wife had 
insisted because it was a better neighborhood. Better than what, he 
didn't know and didn't care. The bitch had gotten her way; it wasn't 
the first or last time that had happened. What he wanted didn't 
matter.

He started home, but less than a mile from the store the traffic 
came to a complete halt. The sky continued to threaten rain, but 
that wasn't the problem. Two cars had a minor fender bender and 
that had backed up traffic even more than usual. Jerry laid on his 
horn, giving vent to his anger even though he knew that it wouldn't 
change the situation. The man in the car next to his gave him the 
finger. Jerry almost climbed out of his car to let the man know 
what he thought of getting the finger. Instead, he just honked his 
horn even more.

Twenty minutes later, he edged around a disabled car even as one 
of the tow trucks hauled away one of the cars. The rain had not 
started, but the clouds grew ever darker as the sound of thunder 
seemed to shake the car. He couldn't see any lightning bolts, but 
the clouds occasionally lit up.

The tow truck was moving down the road well below the speed 
limit and he swore in frustration, "Son of a bitch, use your 
accelerator! Damn, I'm never going to get home at this rate!"

The towed car hit a pothole and the back end bounced off the road. 
The fender, hanging loose after the accident, fell off the car and 
skittered down the road. Jerry slammed on his brakes trying to 
avoid the bumper, but he had been crowding the towed car and it 
just wasn't possible to avoid it. There was a horrible clang as car 
and bumper made contact. Swearing, Jerry managed to pull the car 
off the highway before it started smoking. Once there, the engine 
turned over for the last time.

Furious, Jerry threw the door of the car open and walked around to 
the front of the car. The bumper hung out from under his car. 
Getting down on his hands and knees, he saw that the bumper had 
gone through the oil pan. The rage within him, always held back 
by the thinnest of threads, burst free. He pulled the bumper out 
from under the car and bent it in half before throwing it onto the 
hood of his car. Calming down a little, he swore, "The engine is 
totally shot."

A lightning bolt hit a light post less than ten feet away and the 
thunder knocked him to the ground. At that moment, the clouds 
tried to establish a record on how fast they could dump water on 
the ground below. Jerry was soaked to the bone by the time he 
picked himself off the ground and made it back into his car. 
Leaning forward, he rested his head on the steering wheel.

Seated there, he could feel the rage seething within him. Oh how 
he hated the rage. It was his constant companion; always fighting 
to burst forth and wreck havoc on his life. He fought to keep it 
down, but knew that it was about to escape. Perhaps this time he 
would only damage his car.

His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden knock on the window. 
Looking up, he saw an elderly man struggling to hold an umbrella 
against the gusts of wind. The poor old guy looked completely 
overwhelmed by the weather. Jerry lowered the window and heard 
the man shout, "You want a ride out of this weather?"

The kindness shown him helped fight down the rage. It still was a 
half a minute before Jerry answered, "Sure."

Rolling up the window, he followed the old man to his car and got 
in the passenger side. The old man took his time getting his 
seatbelt fastened and getting situated in his seat. With a friendly 
glance at Jerry, he said, "There's a nice little coffee shop at the next 
exit. How about I buy you a cup of coffee? You look like you 
could use a little break."

Slumping in his seat, he rubbed his forehead striving to hold off a 
headache and to fight back the rage. Jerry answered, "Thanks."

The man pulled out into traffic driving slow in consideration of the 
rain. At the next exit, he pulled off the highway and at the end of 
the exit drove into the parking lot of a small waffle house. The two 
men went inside and seated themselves at a table. Jerry was soaked 
and the water dripping from his clothes had made the seat wet as 
well.

After the appropriate exchange with the waitress, she brought over 
a carafe of coffee before going over to wait on other customers. 
The old man poured two cups and slid one across the table for 
Jerry. After taking a sip of the hot coffee, Jerry slowly relaxed and 
said, "Thanks, I needed this. I was about to tear that car apart with 
my bare hands."

The old man's body didn't give any hint as to how he might have 
looked when he was younger. With a little weight and a younger 
man's muscles, he could have been a very physical guy. The old 
man smiled and replied, "I used to be like you. All full of rage just 
waiting to bust loose. One day, I lost my temper and spent the next 
twenty years in the pen."

"It's not going to happen to me," countered Jerry as his anger 
returned.

"Right," replied the old man in a voice that conveyed total 
disbelief. It was the same tone of voice one would use with a drunk 
swearing he wouldn't drink anymore. He took another sip of his 
coffee, pulled three dollars out of his pocket, and, as he stood, said, 
"I'm going to go on my way now. You can call a cab and get a ride 
home from here."

Ready to argue with the old man, Jerry bit back his retort as the old 
man turned and left the waffle shop. He swore, "Son of a bitch. 
Tell me something like that and then leave. The fucker tells me I'm 
going to spend time in the jail and won't stay to hear why he's 
wrong."

After fuming for five minutes, he went to the pay phone and called 
a cab. When he was told that it was going to be a half an hour 
before a cab could show up, he growled at the dispatcher that they 
should get more drivers. He stomped back to the table and drank 
another cup of coffee waiting for the cab. Angry at the car for 
being wrecked, he decided that he'd just leave it where it was until 
tomorrow. If he were lucky, they'd tow it away and he'd never have 
to bother with it again. 

He looked at his watch and realized that he'd be home two hours 
late. His wife was going to throw a fit. Tense, he went back to the 
pay phone and called his wife. She didn't answer and he went back 
to the table even angrier. He thought, 'Damn bitch probably got 
tired of waiting for me and took the kids to dinner. I'll catch hell 
tonight.'

He had finished the carafe of coffee and gone to the bathroom 
twice by the time the taxi showed up. The driver, a Pakistani, didn't 
understand English and it took Jerry five minutes to get across 
where he wanted to go. He was close to losing his temper, but 
managed to keep it in check. Twenty dollars later, he got out of the 
cab in front of his house and went in to face the family.

Opening the door, he was greeted by the shrill voice of his wife, 
"Where in the hell have you been?"

His hands clenched and the muscles along his back tightened as he 
answered, "I had a car accident."

Without any evident concern for his welfare, his wife screeched, 
"You couldn't call and let me know?"

"I called but no one answered."

"I expect you'll want to use my car for the next few days. Shit, 
what am I supposed to do trapped in the house all day long while 
you're at work? I have tennis lessons tomorrow."

He hadn't expected any real concern for his well being, but her 
total self-involvement fed fuel to his anger. His rage grew to the 
point where it was barely under control and he screamed, "Shut the 
fuck up, bitch!"

"Did you get any news on the promotion? I'm tired of having to say 
that you are just the manager of an auto parts house."

"I didn't get the promotion," replied Jerry as he struggled to keep 
the rage under control. He knew what would happen next and his 
rage beat on the door begging to be let loose.

Livid, her face a pale white, she screamed, "You fucking loser! I 
could have married half a dozen guys that are more successful than 
you are. How dare you blow it! I'm not going to be able to show 
my face in public again. Everyone will say, there goes that woman 
married to the loser."

As his face darkened and the vein on his forehead throbbed, his fist 
clenched. He bit his tongue to keep himself from losing it 
completely. He could taste blood in his mouth, but ignored it in his 
anger. Barely able to control himself, he asked, "What's for 
supper?"

"We waited for you get home. When you didn't come home, we 
went out to eat," she spat the words back at him. With a sneer, she 
added, "Take care of dinner yourself. If you can't be successful, 
then don't expect me to work myself to the bone for your benefit."

A vision of his fist flattening her face flashed through his mind. 
For a second, everything went black, but he fought his rage. 
Gaining control, he realized that he had taken three steps towards 
her without knowing it. He went to the closet and removed his 
raincoat and after slipping it on headed out of the house. As he 
slammed the door behind him, he heard his wife shout, "You need 
to talk to Billy. He got into a fight at ..."

Turning back to the closed door, he whispered, "You deal with it, 
bitch."

Four blocks away was a shopping center with a Chinese Restaurant 
and he made that his destination. Trudging through the rain as 
lightning lit the way and thunder threatened to break his eardrums, 
he didn't pay any attention to his surroundings. It came as a 
complete surprise when he found himself in the shopping center 
walking past the restaurant. 

Entering the restaurant, he selected a booth and sat in the middle of 
the seat where he would have plenty of room for his broad 
shoulders. Resting his elbows on the table, he looked at his meaty 
hands. Most men's hands disappeared inside his when they shook 
hands with him. He hated his hands, feeling like they were 
representative of his over-large stature that made him a freak. He 
couldn't even count the number of names he had been called in his 
life. Apeman, Hulk, Gorilla, Monster Man, and Iron Man were just 
a few of the nicknames he'd heard.

When the smallish oriental woman came to the booth to take his 
order, he said, "I should have been born two hundred years ago. I 
would have made one hell of a blacksmith."

Confused, the waitress asked, "Did you say you want two number 
fours with hot tea?"

Jerry shook his head and said, "No. I want the Mongolian Beef and 
Broccoli with iced tea."

"Okay," replied the woman as she ran off to put in the order. She 
was terrified of this man and always dreaded his visits to the 
restaurant. He was so big and gruff that she felt like he could 
squash her like a bug and never even notice. She had seen him 
angry once and the sight was forever etched in her memory.

Jerry stared at his hands, opening and closing them with slow 
controlled movements. The walk from the house in the rain had 
eased his rage to where it was well under control.  His thoughts 
were interrupted when the waitress showed up with a bowl of won 
ton soup. He grabbed the soupspoon in his massive hands. It 
looked small in his hands as though a child should be using it. 

After taking a taste of the soup, he started talking to himself. "I'm 
miserable bastard. Where in the hell does this rage come from? 
Why can't I be happy like everyone else?"

He took another sip of his soup and continued his dialog with 
himself. His deep voice rumbled across the room. "I know why. 
I'm too fucking big. People look at me like I'm some kind of 
freak."

Pausing to take another sip of his soup, he struck the table with his 
other hand and exclaimed, "I'm not a freak."

A family of four, seated at table near his, picked up their plates and 
moved to a table further away from him. Self-involved with his 
dialog, he didn't notice. He muttered, "No. I treat people like shit. 
Always on the verge of hitting them. Let's face it, I'm not a very 
nice person."

The waitress, moving carefully, removed the empty bowl and set 
his dinner on the table. Without consciously noticing the change, 
he started to eat his meal using his spoon to shovel it into his 
mouth. "The old guy was right. If I don't do something soon, I'm 
liable to kill someone and get life in jail."

Still using his soupspoon, he shoveled a mouthful of fried rice into 
his mouth. The dry texture made him realize that he had finished 
his soup. He changed to the fork and watched as it disappeared in 
his hands. "So what am I supposed to do about it? Fuck if I know."

"I'd like to be a better person, but this damned rage of mine just 
won't let go of me. How can you be a nice person if everyone 
around you pisses you off?" His fist clenched and bent the handle 
of the fork. It was a simple matter to bend it back.

"Shit, I should become one of those goody-two-shoes that goes 
around helping everyone. I've never tried that before." He laughed 
at the image of him helping little old ladies across the street by 
throwing a half dozen of them over his shoulders and getting cats 
out of a tree by ripping the tree out of the ground. That was 
replaced by the image of someone thanking him for his help. The 
laugher slowly died on his lips as a sobering thought came to mind. 
When was the last time that anyone had said anything nice to him? 
He couldn't remember there ever being an instance of that in his 
life.

After a little time, he looked at his plate realizing that he had eaten 
the entire meal. He had even eaten the fortune cookie, paper and 
all. "I must be going crazy. The fucking headlines will read, Police 
Put Down Mad Gorilla On Rampage."

He picked up the bill and looked at the total. Pulling a ten out of 
his wallet, he left it on the table and headed out of the restaurant. 
Outside, he looked at the rain and wondered what he should do 
next. He didn't have a car. His wife had probably locked him out of 
the house and his keys were still in the car that he had abandoned 
on the highway. Still talking to himself, he said, "There's that used 
car lot six blocks from here. The cars they sell are shit, but usually 
last at least a month."

Heading to the used car lot, he walked on the sidewalk thinking 
about his situation. About a block from the used car lot, he stopped 
and looked up at the sky. Making a fist and shaking it at the sky, he 
shouted, "One day, someone is going to say something nice about 
me!"

The only answer the sky gave was another bolt of lightning and a 
crash of thunder. The rain came down a little harder. 

At the car lot, the salesman didn't want to go out in the rain to help 
Jerry, but his greed overcame his reluctance. He ran out to the car 
that Jerry was examining. The tires were worn and the shocks were 
shot, but the paint was perfect. Drawn on the windshield in white 
shoe polish was the price, five hundred dollars. It was worth two 
hundred dollars at most. This was the bait car to get people in to 
shop. The idea was to bait people with a good looking piece of 
trash at a low price and then get them to buy one of the other cars 
that didn't look as nice, but ran better at twice the price. 

When the salesman arrived, Jerry asked, "Do you have the keys for 
this one?"

The salesman fumbled through his key ring and found the key. He 
slipped into the car and started it up. A blue cloud of smoke 
billowed out from the back as the entire car rumbled. The muffler 
had a hole and the rings were shot. It would need a lot of work 
before it would be safe. Mentally, Jerry lowered the value of the 
car to an even hundred. 

He looked over at the car next to it and said, "Start that one."

The salesmen went over to the other car and started it. It started 
right up, but a light blue cloud came out the rear. Jerry pressed 
down on the car and saw that the shocks were bad, but the tires 
would last for another five thousand miles. After a little 
negotiation, Jerry took the car out for a quick test drive. The brake 
shoes were bad, but they could be replaced fairly easily. 

He brought the car back to the lot and told the salesman, "I'll give 
you five hundred for it."

"Are you crazy? That car is worth a thousand dollars," replied the 
salesman. He had a big fish and wasn't going to let it go. He 
thought that this big dumb oaf would finance the car and it would 
be repossessed within two months. He'd already sold this particular 
car three times and made twice what he bought it for in the 
process.

His anger at being treated as though he was stupid slowly boiled to 
the surface, but maintaining control Jerry replied, "Only to 
someone that wants to commit suicide."

He looked around the lot and, in the light of a flash of lightning, 
spotted a pick up truck parked in the back under a tree. He 
wandered over to it and saw that it was at least thirty years old. 
The tires were flat, the body was dented from hard use, and the bed 
appeared to be rusted out. Calling the salesman over, he watched 
as the man tried to start the truck. The half-dead battery had very 
little power, but the engine turned over a couple of times. The 
salesman frowned and said, "I haven't started it in a year. Let me 
get something to help it start."

Jerry watched the man run off. While the salesman was gone, he 
examined the truck with a critical eye. The mechanical parts of the 
truck looked to be in pretty good shape, but the body was a total 
disaster. The salesman returned and popped the hood. After 
spraying some insta-start in the carburetor and connecting the 
jumper battery, he returned to the cab and cranked the engine. 
After a couple of turns, the engine started right up. Jerry looked at 
the gauges and saw that the battery was charging. The muffler 
needed to be replaced, but the engine didn't sound that bad.

The salesman came back to where Jerry stood and said, "Can't 
believe it started."

"I'll give you four hundred for it," offered Jerry.

Considering that the truck had been in the lot for three years and 
this was the first time anyone expressed interest in it, the salesman 
wasn't about to argue. It took an hour to fill out all the required 
paperwork and after using his credit card, Jerry was the new owner 
of a broken down old truck. After filling the tires with air, Jerry 
drove it off the lot and headed towards his store. The brakes were a 
spongy and required some work, but the truck ran smoothly 
considering how long it had been sitting there. 

On the way to his store, he passed by his wrecked car. It was still 
parked where he had left it. He got off the highway and returned to 
the car in order to pick up his keys that he had left in the ignition. 
Looking over it, he decided that he would get it fixed after he fixed 
the truck. Between the Camaro and the truck, he preferred the 
truck. Even though the Camaro was over twenty-five years old, he 
knew it would be worth a fortune if he fixed it up.

***

Jerry groaned as he woke from his night's sleep on the couch in the 
back of the store. He had found the couch years ago, set out on the 
curb as trash by the previous owner. He had brought it to the store 
with the intention of having a place for his employees to sit when 
on their breaks. It turned out to be a fortuitous find; he had slept on 
it on more than one occasion. He suspected that the couch would 
be his bed for the next few weeks. Sitting up, he considered the 
events of the evening before. That lightning had really come close 
to hitting him. In what was becoming a habit of talking aloud to 
himself, he said, "She didn't care that I might have gotten killed 
last night. I don't care to go back to her."

Having made the decision to leave his wife, he felt good about 
himself. The rage, which was always just below the surface, eased 
back a little. Sitting there, he realized that this was the second 
decision that he had made in a long time that put him first. The 
first had been the truck last night. He stood up and stretched 
feeling the muscles loosen. 

Going outside, he examined his purchase of the night before. Three 
of the tires on the truck had lost air, but the fourth was still good. 
In the light of day, the truck looked even worse than it had on the 
lot in the dark and rain. He smiled as he looked at the truck 
knowing what everyone else would think about it. Big stupid Jerry 
had made another bonehead decision. What he had thought was 
rust in the back of the truck was actually a rotted wood truck bed. 
He couldn't believe his luck. Patting the hood with affection, he 
said, "I'm going to call you Thunder." 

He checked his watch and saw that he would have to open the store 
in an hour. Glancing over at the donut shop, he sighed as he 
considered another donut breakfast with a cup of coffee. He had 
too many of those in his life and decided that would have to 
change soon. Talking to the truck, he asked, "How can you like 
yourself if you treat yourself like shit? Once I get you functional, 
I'm going to start eating real breakfasts."

Locking up the store, he went down the street to the donut shop 
where he stood in line behind the regulars that stopped in for 
coffee every morning. The woman behind the counter glanced at 
him with disinterest and asked, "What will it be today?"

"Two chocolate frosted and a large coffee." 

With her normal dispatch, she grabbed two donuts and threw them 
into a bag. A foam cup was quickly filled with coffee from a nearly 
empty pot. In one smooth motion, she grabbed a plastic lid and 
fixed it onto the cup. Setting the bag and the cup on the counter, 
she said, "Two fifty."

Jerry pulled out three dollars from his pocket and slapped it on the 
counter. Grabbing his bag and coffee, he turned to leave the donut 
shop. The woman behind the counter called out, "You forgot your 
change."

Deciding that the fifty cents didn't matter to him, he answered, 
"Keep it."

As she slipped the coins into her pocket and turned to the next 
customer, he stepped outside and checked the sky. There wasn't a 
single cloud in the sky. As a man headed towards the door of the 
donut store, Jerry said, "It's going to be a hot one today. With all 
the rain last night, it's going to be humid, too." 

The man didn't answer, but looked at him as if he were crazy. He 
slipped around Jerry and entered the restaurant, relaxing only when 
there was a closed door between him and the large man. Jerry 
didn't notice and just repeated, "Yes. It's going to be a hot humid 
day today."

Returning to the store, he unlocked the door and took a seat at the 
counter. Eating his donuts and drinking his coffee, he waited for 
the first customer even though it was still a half an hour before the 
store officially opened. As he ate and waited, he considered what 
he would do with the truck. The first business at hand was getting 
the brakes fixed and new tires put on it. He'd also have to make 
arrangements to have his other car towed, but he didn't really have 
a place for the car. He realized that he didn't even have a place for 
himself. 

His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Mike. Mike, seeing 
that Jerry was seated at the counter threw the store keys to the 
counter keeping his distance. He said, "I brought the keys back."

Taking a deep breath, Jerry said, "Mike. I would like to apologize 
for last night. I was out of line."

Stunned, Mike looked at Jerry for a long time not knowing what to 
say. In the entire two years that he had worked at the store, Jerry 
had never apologized. Finally, he stuttered, "Oh, okay…"

Jerry had been hoping for more than that, but he didn't let it bother 
him. Instead, he said, "I would really appreciate it if you came 
back to work here."

Mike slowly shook his head and replied, "Mr. Smith. I'm sorry but 
I'm not sure I can do that."

Mike flinched as Jerry shifted in his chair. Settling down in his 
seat, Jerry took a sip of his coffee having seen the reaction of Mike 
to his movements. It hurt knowing that every move that he made 
was seen as a threatening gesture. After swallowing his coffee, he 
asked, "Do you have a job?"

"No."

Jerry thought about it for a moment and then said, "Type up your 
resume and send it around. While you are waiting for an answer, 
you can work here. If you get a call, you're free to leave for the 
interview. If you get a job, drop the key to the store in my hand 
and go."

It was a fair offer and one that Mike didn't want to turn down. It 
was tough finding a job and he had bills to pay. He said, "I'll have 
to talk to my wife about it."

Nodding, Jerry said, "Fair enough. You talk to her. If you can work 
today, I'll give you this weekend off so that you can take your wife 
and kids to the lake to do some skiing in that boat of yours."

That was the best offer that Mike was going to get and he knew it. 
He shuffled his feet as he thought the matter through. He had 
sworn the previous night that he would never work for Jerry again. 
Finally, he said, "Let me talk to my wife."

Knowing it was highly doubtful that Mike would come back to 
work, Jerry said, "Why don't you use the phone in my office to call 
her? It'll give you a little privacy."

The phone rang and Jerry picked it up. It was the brake shop from 
the other side of town. They needed several sets of brake pads, 
rotors, and a couple gallons of brake fluid. Jerry wrote down the 
order and then hung up the phone. He looked up at Mike surprised 
to see him still there and said, "Go on and talk to your wife."

Nodding, Mike went into the back of the store to make the call. 
While Mike was making the call, Jerry pulled the order. When he 
pulled the brake pads, he realized that the brake shop could repair 
the brakes on his truck and the tire store could replace the tires. He 
finished pulling the parts and put them in a bag for the runner who 
would arrive in fifteen minutes or so. The runner was a guy that 
ran a pickup service for a number of businesses in the area. 

The quiet in the store was broken when the runner stepped through 
the door setting the bells ringing. He was here to pick up the order 
that had been phoned in earlier. Jerry greeted him, "Hello, Howard. 
How many times am I going to see you today?"

"Dozen, maybe more," replied Howard as he examined the 
contents of the bag. Satisfied that it was all there, he signed the 
paper for the pickup and left without another word. 

Jerry watched him go and realized that he had never had a 
conversation with the guy. He frowned at the realization that he 
wasn't a friendly person and left the counter. Going to the back 
door, he opened it and looked at his truck parked there. It was an 
absolute wreck and, for some strange reason, the more he looked at 
it the more he loved it. He said, "Well Thunder, after Mike gets off 
the phone, I've got some calls to make. We'll get you all fixed up." 

He returned to the counter and waited for Mike to come out of his 
office. It was a long wait and he figured that it meant that it was a 
very tough decision. Surprising himself, he hoped that Mike would 
stay. Mike came out of the office and fidgeted a moment before he 
said, "I'll stay, but I'd like to take my wife out to lunch if that's 
okay. I kind of promised her that last night."

Picking up the keys, Jerry tossed them to Mike as he said, "That's a 
good idea."

Turning to the phone, Jerry began wheeling and dealing with the 
owners of auto shops around town to get the essential parts of his 
truck functional. It was the first time that he had engaged many of 
the storeowners in conversation rather than taking orders and at 
times he felt a little uneasy. He ended up swapping parts for labor 
costs coming out well ahead on the deal since he was able to buy 
the parts at wholesale prices. He also arranged for his other car to 
get towed to the back of the store.

While Jerry was on the phone, Mike went to the back door and 
stared at the truck parked there. He couldn't believe that Jerry was 
spending so much time on such a wreck. He came back into the 
store and said, "Mr. Smith. I'm not sure that you got such a good 
deal on that truck."

"Call me Jerry. I never had a better deal in my life," replied Jerry 
with a smile. For the first time in a long time, he didn't feel the 
rage and it felt good.